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-------- -- -----  A E R I E   O B L I V I A N A .
singular book of text wandertainment by Frank Edward Nora
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OSOAWEEK--ISSUE 024--1/5/95
<-------  ||  OsoaWeek  ||  Issues  ||  Book 2  ||  ------->
(Cup OWis024, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999)

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[[BEGIN024OW]]



[[01024CV]] * * * O S O A W E E K 0 2 4 * * * January 5, 1995
"The weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement!"
by Frank Edward Nora

INSIDE THIS ISSUE!
New Years Resolution '95--Download OsoaWeek Every Week!
       The Clash!
                 Are "Garth Brooks Greatest Hits" really that great?
                           The Naked Girl Old English Space Station Thing
     Mass Destruction and Loss of Life
                                    Stuff from January 10, 1991
                     Grand Moff Tarkin
       Ectoplasm in Your Shampoo
                            Speed Reading "Finnegans Wake"
            Bad Air Travel Dreams
                                          Flavored Ice Tubes from 1986
plagiarism, tongue-lashing, poor artwork, and not much else
                          Insurance
      Prince Ferrajalt and Treyess Arcomany in their Warhome
                                     The Zincler
     Spanking New Sarah and Pine Run Glara
Forget all that other crap--THIS is the thing to download!

(Permission is granted to make complete, verbatim, digital ASCII copies of this copyrighted ezine for the purpose of free distribution. All other forms of reproduction require written permission from Frank Edward Nora.)

OsoaWeek is published weekly by Obliviana Super Occult Amusement * copyright 1995 Frank Edward Nora * originating in New Jersey, USA * Contact: 1-800 OBLIVIANA/obliviana@aol.com/postal:
Osoa
P.O. Box 60
Iselin, NJ 08830-0060

Character count: 59029 / Line count: 1649

Catalog of Obliviana & The Table of Contents are at the very end of this file.

*OW*



[[02024HR]] Hemisinister Review

***CD'S***

THE CLASH * THE CLASH (1977?)
A truly remarkable album--Beatlesesque in its power--every track a winner--a real wake-up call. It captures a remarkable moment in music and history--it's awesome!

WALTER BECKER * 11 TRACKS OF WHACK (1994)
Formerly one-half of Steely Dan, Walter Becker helped on Donald Fagan's (the other half) solo album, "Kamakiriad", and now he's done one of his own. Grittier, cooler--this is great stuff, a few tracks matching Steely Dan level. The song "Surf and/or Die" is the best, a quirky tune detailing the aftermath of a hang glider accident in Hawaii. Give it a shot!

GARTH BROOKS * THE HITS (1994)
When I was a kid, my dad used to listen to some country music--I remember a Hank Snow 8-track in particular. But that was the old country, and now we have the "new country". A few years ago I really tried to get into this genre of music, by listening to a country station on the drive back from work (the morning is for Howard). And I just couldn't grok it. But when this best of Garth Brooks came out, I got it, mainly because it was only gonna be available for a limited time. And let me say, after a few listening, I find myself enjoying some of the tracks a great deal. I especially like "Callin' Baton Rouge" and of course "Friends on Low Places". Many of the songs involve trucking which is pretty cool I guess. I kind of get the impression, though, that this is like the pinnacle of country, and I'm not interested in delving further at this point. So if you're a genre surfer, this is a good representative of the new country. Right on!

THE BEACH BOYS * PET SOUNDS (1966)
The buzz on this album is that it was Brian Wilson's answer to The Beatles' "Rubber Soul". And it is quite a nice album, though not on a Beatles level. It has the recognizable hit "Wouldn't it be Nice" as its first track, and contains a lot of great songs, though they tend to be rather slight and fragile. "Hang on to Your Ego" (covered a few years ago by Frank Black) is an awesome track, as is its original form, "I Know There's An Answer". I'm not all that familiar with The Beach Boys, but I understand that this album stands well apart from their others, beyond the realm of surf.

*OW*



[[03024ZP]] Zope

Today's Episode:
9 TO 5 AND ZOPE

ZOPE (on telephone)
Hello? Weasel? Yeah. I'm totally bored with my latest enterprise, you know, the naked girl Old English space station thing--so I was thinking--maybe I'll try something I've never experienced before--commuting into the city and working 9 to 5. What? Okay, I'll be here. See you in a little while.

Soon...

ZOPE
What do you mean you think this idea of mine will end up with mass destruction and loss of life?

WEASEL
Now Zope, don't get mad--it's just that I can't see you being able to stand that sort of lifestyle very much. I just know you'll end up crashing the train, going on a shooting spree, and nuking the whole city! I'm just thinking of your well being.

ZOPE
Weasel, it's very disturbing that you can't see how much I've matured. I'm mellow now, dude! Now come on--let's do this thing together--it'll be fun!

WEASEL
Well...

ZOPE
Okay! I'll get us a job and we'll leave bright and early Monday morning. Cheer up--it'll be a great change of pace!

WEASEL
Oh, alright. I guess it should be okay...

5 DAYS LATER--IN THE MIDST OF A NUCLEAR WASTELAND

WEASEL
Zope...

ZOPE
Don't say it! I know you're gonna say "where did the new, mellow Zope go?" Well Weasel, let me tell you--I am mellow. Very mellow. But having to get up at 6 am, jam into a crowd of f*ckheads, pass a bunch of smelly bums, exchange niceties with zombie coworkers, deal with assh*le clients all day long, then jam into that crowd again just to get home, well--you can understand why I crashed the train, went on a shooting spree, and nuked the entire city, can't you, buddy?

*OW*



[[04024HT]] Halfevil Times

January 10, 1991. What sort of day was it? Well let's see, it was 34 degrees outside, it was cloudy, and... OKAY! I admit it--I'm not one of those idiot savants who can remember minute details about every day of their lives. But I do have a computer file which says I either wrote, compiled, or both wrote and compiled a set of "Ever Wonder/Ever Notices" between 11:34 am and 1:13 pm on that day. I went on to use some of these in my magazine of the time, ZOPE, I believe, but I figured, what the hell, I may as well present the entire file here for your amusement, virtually unchanged. And remember--this was about four years ago, and some of the material is painfully dated. ENJOY!


EVER WONDER...

...if you'd ever notice it if someone put ectoplasm in your shampoo?

...what would happen if you did speed reading on "Finnegans Wake"?

...why MTV dredges up the most untalented and annoying people they previously fired to become the new VJ's?

...if they named it "Sesame Street" after the stuff Jim Henson was smoking to come up with the idea in the first place?

...if Javier Perez de Cuellar is entirely human?

...wonder if Disney bought the Muppets to suppress the fact that Fozzie Bear writes most of the scripts for Touchstone?

...why your body takes perfectly good food and transforms it into useless and disgusting brown paste?

...if that guy who made up The Simpsons finally realizes that the rabbit thing was just a waste of time?

...what sort of dilemma a vegetarian would be in if they served slime mold and sea anemone for Thanksgiving?

...if you can REALLY mail yourself somewhere instead of taking a plane, just like they do in the movies?

...who the guy is at CNN who does the complex logos for all the disasters and crises as soon as they happen?

...the dream-producing portion of your brain is hung up with all this David Lynch crap, instead of producing non-stop porno like it should ?

...why melting things hasn't become more of a family pastime?

...what happens to all those staples that come out when you "cold test" your stapler to make sure it's working?

...why American industry has forgotten how to manufacture cool lunchboxes?

...if those people who constantly quote from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" realize that they're total retards and ought to be killed?

...how these televangelists manage to find enough morons to send in money who haven't yet realized the whole thing is a total sham?

...if at some point it isn't easier just to use real wood than to go through all the trouble to manufacture simulated woodgrain finish?

...why computers haven't solved all our problems yet?

...why, in Disney World, some of the moving figurines are fully articulated and life-like, while others are just like mannequins they found in an A&S trash heap?

...if mass murderers get bitter at the media for fawning over Charles Manson when the guy never even killed anyone himself?

...why museums feel it necessary to display all their stuff in dimly lit mazes and corridors?

...these museums have priceless paintings out in the open, when all it takes is one loony toon who saw Batman to smuggle a can of spray paint in past a few perpetually half-asleep guards?

...why we harp on the bodily appendages of important historical figures, such as Van Gogh's ear, Washington's wooden teeth, Braille's eye, and Einstein's brain?

...who the hell Ptolemy was?

...why those other 2 pigs in "Pigs in Space" never got any other roles with the Muppet organization?

...why there was never a Star Wars action figure Grand Moff Tarkin?

...why comedians always refer to "Bowling for Dollars" when most people under 30 never even saw the show?

...how the hell these scientists came up with the idea to make hard smooth plastic from gooey slippery oil?

...why more insane people don't try to assassinate their favorite celebrities?

...if that "Where's the Beef?" old lady is turning in her grave because the "I've fallen and can't get up" old lady has usurped her title as "#1 goofy commercial hag"?

...what kind of money that the guy who plays Mr. McFeely on "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood" makes?

...why The Beatles felt it necessary to malign their monarch at the end of their last album, instead of just leaving it with that "love you take equals the love you make" thing?

...how many peace activists are crossing their fingers that the Persian Gulf will become another Vietnam so they can have all those cool marches?

...when people are gonna stop going ape sh*t over Jane Pauly?

...how every cat you kill manages to have used up 8 of its 9 lives before you got to it?

...why everyone assumes Vaudeville was so great, when the only people who could possibly know are the old geezers who probably can't remember anyway?


EVER NOTICE...

...that for some reason every immortal you hear about fought in the American Civil War?

...that Tariq Aziz looks exactly like the Muppet "Telly" on Sesame Street?

...that the people who are so concerned of the dangers of computer screens these days are probably the same ones who sat right in front of the big color TV sets during their entire childhoods, absorbing more radiation than Bart Simpson's father?

...that no matter how you slice it, the Atari 2600 will always be cooler than Nintendo.

...notice that Yogi Bear never even meditates or sleeps on a bed of nails?

...that comedians seems to think that any subject with a "gay" or "Jewish" context will be funny, such as "Gay Bowling For Dollars" or "Jewish mountain climbing".

...that Arabs don't have a chance in hell of changing their stereotype?

...that Civil Rights leader tend to overreact just a wee bit?

...that to millions of Americans Jodie Foster is simply "that girl who pissed off David Hinckley"?

...that the only thing time travel is good for is to go back in time to screw Marilyn Monroe?

*OW*



[[05024LA]] Lord of Obliviana

Here it is, okay? The year. 1995. The legend.

Now there, what do you think of me, your host, going to K-Mart to get a water filter before returning to you, my reader?

Well, that was days ago, and I wound up getting the water filter at Pathmark. Real exciting stuff here.

Anyway, it IS 1995 now, and I'm starting it off right with another truly mind-blowing exploration into the realms of human endeavor and mystery, OsoaWeek024. This issue is chock full of cool stuff--and just think--you're lucky enough to be reading it!

So I started my full-time job this week, on Thursday (ostensibly today, the 5th, but this issue is late as usual, and it's the 8th now). This coming week, I'll have to contend with the daily grind for 5 full days. Can I handle it? I think so, but it's just--like when I was walking through Penn Station the other morning, around 7:30 am, with all these people milling about and feeling so tired, this voice inside me was saying "I don't like this." And I really DON'T like it. I'd rather be doing Obliviana full time, of course, but the technology just isn't out there yet that would allow me to do Obliviana full time. So I just have to wait a year or two until the information infrastructure reaches an appropriate level.

Oh well. Hopefully I can keep OsoaWeek going smoothly even though more of my energy will be going to earning a living. It's tough--lots of people tell me that one can work full time and pursue other things at the same time. But this idea is seriously flawed. You have to be totally organized and have massive amounts of self-discipline to get this done--and these are two things creative people never seem to get the hang of.

But I must continue with OsoaWeek, and I shall. It just might be unpleasant, and I don't react to unpleasantness too well--I'm too spoiled.

Oh well. Thanks for listening to my problems. I gotta finish this baby up and get to bed so I can wake up at 6 am. Why do I not feel good about this at all? I don't know. I should feel good about it I guess.

Something just came to mind, and I don't know why. It's a memory of going out into a field of a nearby school to see the meteor showers with my father, and then going to Dunkin Donuts afterward. We did it a number of times, when I was in high school, I think. That memory just came to me. A good memory. It makes me feel good.

Oh well, maybe I'll have time to analyze this sometime, but for now, GET ALL OBLIVIANA!

*OW*



[[06024NH]] Nihilistica

***DIARY OF A DREAMFRANK***

1/4/95
Today, there were these two jackets, as might be worn by high school atheletes. These were relics from the past, apparently for black kids in segregation times, and were on display in a newsroom where there were two sexy female anchors. Each was seduced and had sex with the jacket on their side of the room. This kept happening again and again until the jackets became a robot, similar to the ones from "Lost in Space" and "Forbidden Planet". It would zoom by in space and say something like "is it my fault this is happening" or whatever. And I would tell it yes. And it would come back and have sex with the lovely newscasters, over and over again, and the room was like my room from my childhood which I shared with my brother.

1/5/95
Today, me and my girlfriend were running through this mall, trying to get our plane. We had to run an awfully far way, and we would sometimes glance behind us and see a bus that was catching up to us--a bus driving inside the mall. Finally we got to the gate, but there wasn't time for my girlfriend to get a ticket. The plane was parked by a platform as a train might be, and a flight attendant guy was just closing the doors, but he saw us and let us in. We sat down, and with resignation, I whipped out my American Express--having planned on buying my own ticket with it anyway, and now I was buying hers too. We took off, and soon the plane started flying erratically. Outside, we saw another plane, and it seemed that the pilot was racing it. Then we were flying only a few feet above a highway, as we continued to race the other plane. It did seem awfully dangerous, but I figured it must be safe, otherwise it wouldn't be allowed. Eventually, the plane transformed into a bus, and was mingling with other motor vehicles--the purposes of which, we came to understand, was to suddenly take off into the air, impressing the drivers around us.

December 1994 (no specific dates)
At EPCOT Center, me, my father and some dreamfriends were driving around the outskirts of the park, and we found a trail leading into the woods, where there was this weird statue, some sort of tribute to America or Engineering or something. Space Mountain was totally revamped--it was a harrowing giant log flume thing. Then at the flea market, there was an interesting booth. There were little handmade segments which fit into the Lego Stream system--including little plastic pipes for the water to flow through. Some had jingling balls, and many were exquisitely crafted. There was a price list of the wall, and they were $300, $500, $700 each and the like. Apparently, the prices changed daily. I would have liked to buy all the segments, and create a little world of streams, maybe like a train set--a stream set. The woman running the booth also had a freezer with tray after tray of discontinued brands of flavored ice tubes from 1986. And there was also a game from the far past, where you punch open parts of it, and there were notes from people who had played the game before, and you would leave notes for the people who'd play it in the future. It involved different investigatory agencies or something.

*OW*



[[07024SU]] Superior

SUPERIOR 145
Fear, and I enjoy thrills. Oh shopping, in cold parking lots the thoughts of the day, the thoughts the life. Classic rock, the bloodstream of consciousness, stuff, plans, finding your place in the world of coolness. Clearly, not everything anyfine.

SUPERIOR 146
Getting. The and it was bridge wonderful weather, weird Manhattan spring and that girl. To think. Dreaming and the past, how different are they? Life, it takes a long time just to get it. A perfect little fortress is not an admirable life. Poetry is not relevant to your life.

SUPERIOR 147
We adore so much, yet when in concord trees, and the treehouse of the cool kids, we are at piano lessons where there is evil afoot, and it was the secret way which was rather trespassing, and there were dreams in that area and I wonder if that's what it's like to be a ghost--to be obsessed with locations.

SUPERIOR 148
When. Looking ahead, I want to see that which I can cherish, as with that in the past. Right now I have gained a perspective on the past five years of my life, a forging period. I never knew I had so much growing up to do. The light brown disruption, the splash, the primordial mud trembling, exploding forth, nourishing that portion of the mall like nothing else could. And all who caught it, all who were marked, were changed forever. This was the change of pace, this is the start of you are a good one, Mallahay, I like thee, and it was spinning on top of a skyscraper and you weren't supposed to be there.

*OW*



[[08024DH]] Dehumidifier

Continuing in the fine tradition of Dehumidifier, I present to you another gem from the pre-OsoaWeek period. This time, it's an excerpt from "NomadiNews" #9 Catalog Edition, June/July 1988. Mike Massotto writes a listing of all issues of "Anything But Monday" existing up to that point, as well as a preview of the national issue. A few disclaimers before the text--first, any offers referred to in the following passage are null and void, very. Second, the "quote" from Frank Rich is totally bogus and did not ever appear in The New York Times (as if that would happen).

If this blast from the past whets your appetite for back issues of ABM, the original printings are no longer available--but part or all of these back issue may very well be included in the upcoming Obliviana CD-ROM! Look for it within a year!


ANYTHING BUT MONDAY COMEDY/HUMOR MAGAZINE. THE HISTORY-MAKING PUBLICATION THAT YOU GOTTA SEE TO BELIEVE!
by Mike Massotto

ANYTHING BUT MONDAY #1. First published in April of 1986, more out of anger than anything else for being kicked off the college radio airwaves for "too much f*ckin' 'Imus in the Morning' sh*t" according to our pleasant (and now defunct) general manager at that time, ABM#1 (now in its third printing) is a simple 4-page publication which specializes in plagiarism, tongue-lashing, poor artwork, and not much else. A MUST for your collection. See the infamously hilarious letter which listed the grounds for our removal from the air, and that set us on the way to bigger and better things...25¢

ANYTHING BUT MONDAY #2. First published in September of 1986, ABM#2 takes a giant leap out of the ridiculous and into the Dark Ages of humor magazine publications. Eight pages, a little less plagiarism, a little more bad artwork, but many more laughs. Why not? Not recommended for kids! Oh, what the hell, buy it anyway...25¢

ANYTHING BUT MONDAY Episode 3. First published in October of 1986, ABM#3 has been labelled a human rights violation (by a university judicial panel, no less.) It almost had us expelled and lynched, and the magazine banned... but then the media found out about it, and everyone was refreshed on the First Amendment. Terrible mistake on our part, almost beyond offense, and now only available by special order. Really not for kids, nor is it us, nor does it reflect on future publications in any way. It has its moments, some of them quite forgettable. Eight pages...50¢

ANYTHING BUT MONDAY Book 4. First published in November of 1986, ABM#4 excels in all areas as it gropes its way out of the Dark Ages. Eight pages featuring "The Ten Commandments Today", "Sooper News", "Everybody's Entitled to Our Opinion", "Original Zope", and "Weekly World Perceptions", to name a few. Decently great fun...25¢

ANYTHING BUT MONDAY Volume 5. First published in February 1987--a new leaf, a clean slate, twelve pages, all great! New features include: "Nomadic New Year's Predictions", "Famous Asinine Quotes of 1986", "Big Nuclear Comics", "Froy Dean Stages of Child Development", and the first ABM crossword puzzle, to name a few...50¢

ANYTHING BUT MONDAY Part 6. First published in September of 1987 (the 7 month gap a result of Frank's new girlfriend, my running for president of the student body, and three months of summer vacation), Part 6 is our first anniversary issue of twelve pages packed with all sorts of hilarious surprises and new features including the premier of "NOMADS" (the comic strip), "Your Horrorscope", and "Klassified Adz", et. al. It only gets better...50¢

ANYTHING BUT MONDAY Symptom 7. First published in December 1987, a twelve page holiday issue--a real mind boggler, not to mention funny. Features include the poetry of Pervellack Slochlin and Libro Gesessnar, "New Ideas in Christmas Toys", "NOMADS", "Heads and Faces", the return of "Sooper News", and "Weekly World Perceptions and Ponderings" as always... Incredible! Bite...50¢

ANYTHING BUT MONDAY Chapter 8. First published in February 1988--A quantum leap forward--16 pages, new real artists, laser typeset, more features, an impossibility by any standards--yet it exists nonetheless! It humbles the others and the competition as well, but it's still okay in its own right. This you GOTTA see!

"'Chapter Eight' has set the standard of excellence for small press, underground publications, and borders on newsstand quality..."
--Frank Rich, N.Y. Times.

Still only...50¢

ANYTHING BUT MONDAY Unit 9. First published in April 1988 (Actually May, but who gives a flying F***! anyhow?!) and we weren't kidding around: Twenty pages with glossy, two-color, 100 lb. covers, laser typeset, more art than ever before, photography, and much, much hilarious more, all saddle stitched for your pleasure and our pain. This baby cost us, but it was well worth it! A MUST! Left the critics speechless!

Should be more than...$1.00.


OR TAKE THEM ALL FOR JUST $3.50, A SAVINGS OF WELL OVER 74 CENTS!


ANYTHING BUT MONDAY Volume II, #1. RELEASE DATE: October 1988. WHERE: Nationwide. HOW: Through direct market comic book distributors. HOW MUCH: "?", but only a dollar an issue at our special one year bi-monthly subscription cost of just six bucks which includes postage! We'll take the loss so that you can enjoy "Anything But Monday Humor Magazine" delivered to your home for one year at this idiotically low price. Fill out the subscription card in this issue of NomadiNews and send it in with your check or money order so we can add you to our ever growing computer listing. WHY: Because ABM vol.II, #1 is going to full magazine size format, full-color covers, and 32 incredible interior pages featuring even more new artists and now new WRITERS as well!

This offer is only good until September 30, 1988. As of then, the subscription rates go up. So hurry and get yours today while it's cheap and costing US money!

*OW*



[[09024SR]] Severe Repair

SEVERE REPAIR 24: "Insurance"

"Now Canary, tell me more about your home life."

The luscious devil girl Lemon sat in a chair, legs crossed, hair done up in a bun, glasses on, and writing notes down in a little pad.

The wild dog fellow Canary was lying down on a little couch next to Lemon.

"Mommy spoiled me Doc, what can I say?"

"Don't you have any gruesome, shocking, nightmarish memories to tell your doctor now, Canary?"

"Um... nope!"

"Now how do you expect me to psychoanalyze you if you had a good childhood! Hah!?"

Canary sneezed a nasty sneeze.

"You're the doc, you tell me. Arr arr arr!"

Lemon lifted the glasses off her nose a little and stared at her patient.

"Well now! Finally some progress! An unexpected burst of animal aggression!"

Just then, Chamomile came into the room, and Colonia the Sword, in her new devil girl form, followed.

"Oh now what the hell are you doing now?" Chamomile said impatiently.

"Psychoanalyzing Canary to find out why he's so crazy." Lemon said with a smile.

Chamomile looked away, took a sharp intake of air and bit her lip. "Lord, give me patience."

Lemon's eyes locked with Colonia's and there was a vital spark between them. Colonia smiled and motioned with her head and eyebrows toward another part of Yellowhaus.

"Lemon," Chamomile said, bending over to pick up a mess of scattered magazines on the floor, "We still have well over a year before we reach our destination--could you please try and have some consideration for the rest of us?"

Lemon eyed Chamomile's athletic, graceful form. Adorned with her loose yellow martial arts clothing, Lemon appreciated the contrast between the beauty and the deadliness of Chamomile. She liked Chamomile, even if she did so enjoy taunting her.

"If I cure Canary from his craziness, that'll help us all, boss." the devil girl said.

Canary yowled wildly.

Chamomile stood up and threw the magazine back on the ground.

"I mean it! Please make an effort to clean up after yourself and make yourself useful! "Chamomile said. "I know you want to help people, and that's commendable, but don't do it at the expense of others!"

Lemon gave Chamomile a salute.

Chamomile gave Lemon a grimace, and then turned and left. Lemon turned to Colonia.

"What a grouch! She has to learn to calm down!"

"Maybe you can psychoanalyze her, too." Colonia said with a sexy smirk.

"I wish."

"So when you're done with Canary there, think you can help me out? There are a lot of peculiarities, being a devil girl. I never imagined. I don't know how you deal with it."

"Oh, I'll be more than glad to assist you--just let me finish up with the carpet here."

Canary went limp, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, panting.

"He sure is nuts." Colonia said.

"Yup. And that's what I aim to fix!"

Just then, a big snore came from Canary.

"Asleep again!" Lemon exclaimed. "Is it narcolepsy, or just plain laziness? I must investigate further! But all in good time."

Lemon got up and crossed the room to Colonia.

"Come on sister. We have much to discuss."

Lemon led Colonia by the hand. Soon they came to Lemon's room. It was an eclectic mix of cushions, gold and brass decorations, paintings from Hell, and a few torture devices.

"Like it?" Lemon asked.

"You know, I think I do." Colonia said slowly, sitting down on a sofa. Lemon sat down next to her.

"Now Colonia, I know what you must be going through. Being a devil girl is a tough business. But you're lucky--I'm here to help!"

"Yeah--it seems like being a devil girl might be rather great, it's just these feelings, these images, these urges..."

Lemon held her fingers to Colonia's lips.

"Shush. First things first."

Colonia nodded.

"Now." Lemon said. "The first thing we have to work on is your name. 'Colonia the Sword' just won't do. Too dull. What other names have you been known by?"

Colonia frowned in thought and looked away.

"You know--I don't know. I guess I've been called a few things in my time. I was forged as Colonia, but one of my owners called me Becamman the Stordred."

Lemon shook her head.

"He said I was his insurance against marauders from the hills. Huh. That was a long time ago."

Lemon smiled.

"Insurance... his insurance... that's it! Insurance! That's a fine devil girl name! How 'bout it sister?"

"What--to change my name to 'Insurance'?"

"Yeah--isn't it great! Has a real nice feel to it! Very sinister, yet very alluring at the same time--exactly as you want it to be!"

"Hmm..."

"Give it some thought. Give yourself a minute."

Colonia nodded and though about it.

"Well?" Lemon said after a few seconds. "Whattaya think? Is it you, or is it you?"

"Um, I think it could work..."

"Yeah! There you go! I, Lemon, Princess of Hell, hereby dub thee 'Insurance'! Congratulations!"

Insurance raised her eyebrows and gave Lemon a sarcastic look.

"Well, I guess I can live with that. Insurance. Huh. At least it'll help me get farther away from my past, from being a cold shaft of steel, from the pain of living like that."

"That's the spirit Insurance! Get into your new life! Oh sister, we're going to have such a wonderful year together in Yellowhaus as we near our destination! I have big plans for you!"

"I hope I can live up to your expectations."

"You will, Insurance. You will."

* * *

"The river." Prince Ferrajalt said, looking at the vector display to his right, sitting in the driver's seat of the Warhome.

"Where?" Treyess Arcomany asked.

"Coming right up--I guess this baby is constantly scanning the surrounding area. It even shows the river being frozen, even though it's not cold enough. See, some sort of anomaly reading by the river..."

"Huh."

The enormous vehicle rounded a corner and crashed over a small fence, out onto a dock.

"Prince..." Treyess said, as they sped toward the end of the dock.

Ferrajalt looked over at Treyess for a moment.

"No problem."

Treyess raised her eyebrows and wore a frown of puzzlement, nodding and grabbing the arms of her seat.

In a moment, the Warhome flew off the edge of the dock and slammed onto the frozen river an instant later. Ferrajalt gently braked, and the huge thing quickly skidded to a halt.

The two surveyed the glassy, ultrasmooth surface of the frozen river, lit in the eerie glow of the giant streetlights lining its banks.

"Now this is more like it." Treyess said.

"Yeah..." Ferrajalt said. "But which way to the waterfall?"

"You think I know after all the twists and turns we had to take to get here? Doesn't your little viewscreen tell you?"

Ferrajalt checked the vector display.

"No."

"Huh. Well everything is so changed anyway, I don't know if--"

"--no wait--it's coming up on the display. See? It's so cool! A 3-D map of the river."

"There ya go."

So it's down, uh, that way." Ferrajalt said, pointing.

Treyess looked over at Ferrajalt, and the Prince swam in the beauty of her eyes.

After a pause, Treyess said "So now we get to see if this office complex thing is still there.:

"Yeah." Ferrajalt said, turning back to the river, and easing forward on the controls.

The Warhome's wheels spun a little, but them some sort of traction control kicked in, and they were cruising along at a fair pace.

Treyess looked around, at the surreal landscape all around them--giant streetlights, river like a mirror, creepy shapes on either bank, and the feeling of being nowhere.

"Now remember, there IS a waterfall coming up sometime." she said. "We don't want to go over it."

"I know." Ferrajalt said. "I don't think we're near it yet, and I'm sure the Warhome will detect it and start blinking and beeping all over the place."

"I sure hope so." Treyess said, not at all sure they should depend on that in this situation, but not wanting to insult the Prince's handling of the matter.

They drove on in silence for a while, then Ferrajalt spoke.

"So what do you think is really going to happen to us? I used to have a good life. I mean, I was a Prince--I AM a Prince. Back on my Earth. I mean, I thought it was all bullsh*t, I had all these ideas, like why should we be so much better than commoners? All that. But right now, I don't know. I kind of wish I was back there."

"Well to me, this is pure adventure--and that's what I live for. Back on my Earth I was quite well-known also. Our technology hasn't developed quite as smoothly as on all you guys Earths. I mean, the internal combustion engine, flight, all that we've just recently got going. And computers, forget it--they might have the first building-sized prototype going in a few years. So there are a lot of places on my Earth where it's very difficult, maybe even impossible to get to. And adventure was popular. I was popular. And there IS some weird stuff of my Earth, weird hidden places."

"But what's this?" Ferrajalt asked, waving his hand. "Look around--this isn't anything! It's a nightmare. It has no relation to anything. It's like the universe ended and we just don't know it yet. Yeah--maybe all this is just a hallucination."

Treyess studied Ferrajalt's face. He had potential. You could see somewhere in there ancestors who were great heroes, great warriors. But he needed to stop being such a wimp.

"Well you know--from what I read, this may have happened once before--in Sweptim. I guess this IS what happened. They said that a whole bunch of Earths, maybe all of them, were somehow destroyed, and how they managed to salvage Red Alley Earth, but nothing else."

"And maybe this time it'll be Timber Serious that gets saved. Then I could never go home."

"Oh come on, Prince. Don't despair--this may not be the same sort of phenomenon at all--I was just saying. And remember--Fife created his Earth searching system and the whole Primate thing so that if something like this happened, there might be enough remarkable talents to find a solution. And remember--YOU are a Primate, and there IS a reason for that."

"I wish I knew. There are a lot of other royal families of my planet--why me?"

"I'm sure we'll find out."

Ferrajalt nodded, but stopped as they came to a big bend on the river. He carefully steered to the right, and it seemed that they'd start skidding and going out of control at and moment, but they didn't.

"Easy!" Treyess said.

"I know! I know!" Ferrajalt said, gripping the control unit and looking quite flushed. "So how that hell is the boat supposed to make that goddamn corner?"

"We'll find some way!"

"I don't see how! You know how big that thing is? It's big!"

"Ferrajalt--get a hold of yourself! This isn't a totally random situation--just look at this vehicle of ours! There has to be a higher structure to it. I have a gut feeling that we CAN get the boat around the corner."

"Well I hope so." Ferrajalt said, and then another curve came up, this one to the left. "Oh great! Another one!"

Treyess sighed and shook her head.

Ferrajalt was more careful with this curve, but it was more pronounced than the previous one. And they were going awfully fast.

"Ferrajalt--you say you don't like adventure, but look how fast you're driving down this frozen river toward a waterfall!"

"I know, I know! It's hard to make this thing go slow."

The two stopped talking as a huge hulking shape loomed ahead on the right riverbank.

"What the hell is that?" Ferrajalt asked.

"What? Yeah... Looks like a building maybe? A mountain? No..."

Then a sharp beeping started, and Ferrajalt looked down at the vector display--it showed the huge drop coming up, the waterfall. The Prince immediately hit the brakes.

"We're almost there!" he said, and the Warhome lurched to a halt. Treyess looked at him.

"I don't see it."

"I know! But I don't want to risk getting too close and not being able to stop."

"Huh." Treyess said, looking around. "So how are we going to see about that office complex and everything?"

Ferrajalt took a deep breath and let it out. His heart was racing.

"Um." he said. "Let me think."

"Okay."

"Okay. I think... we should... take the biplane."

"What?"

Ferrajalt looked at Treyess.

"That plane back there. We could fly it over the waterfall and get a close look at that office complex."

"Do you know how to fly?"

"Well--I flew a glider a few times. Besides--considering how easy this thing was to drive, how hard could the plane be?"

"Let me think this through--it sounds good at first glance, but I don't know..."

"The thing is, I just don't want to get this thing anywhere near the drop. We could walk it..."

"Oh no! I'm not standing on that slippery ice on the edge of a fatal fall."

Ferrajalt stood up.

"So you wanna take the plane? You can fly it if you want to. I know I hogged the controls here."

"Oh--that's no problem. But you know, that plane looks like the sort of planes we have back home--real primitive. But there's no way it flies with the same mechanics. It's too small. But I will give it a shot." Treyess said, also getting up.

"Okay." Ferrajalt said, moving to the door. "I'm pretty sure it holds two people."

"Yeah?" Treyess said, following him.

They walked into the main chamber of the Warhome, and Ferrajalt let Treyess climb the ladder on the central shaft before him.

"Okay, now to figure out how to get in here." Treyess said as Ferrajalt looked up at her.

"Need help?"

"No--I got it." she said, planting her right boot on a small foothold on the plane and lifting herself up and over the edge. "Yeah--I've got it."

"Is there room for me?"

"Um--wait a second." Treyess said as she sat down and settled herself in. "Well, it's a tight fit, but there's room."

Ferrajalt began climbing the ladder.

"Wait a second." Treyess said. "I need a key. Weren't there some other on that keyring you found?"

The Prince stopped.

"Oh yeah. I guess there must be one for each vehicle. I'll go get it."

"Cool."

Ferrajalt went back to his driver's seat and tried to figure out what to do--he didn't want to shut the Warhome off, but he couldn't see any easy way of getting the other keys off the ring. As well, there were seven keys in all--and he wasn't sure which one was the right one.

So he sat down in the seat and took a close look at the keys. And upon this closer examination, he saw little engraved pictures of the various vehicles--the Warhome, the biplane, the submarine, the motorcycle, the speedboat, a door, and one--one which just had a little circle on it. Also, he saw that each key had a little latch on it where you could disconnect it from the keyring. So he carefully flicked the mechanism, and released the biplane key. With it in hand, he rush back to the ladder and back to Treyess.

"Got it." he said, as he climbed up to the biplane docking area. He saw that Treyess was wearing some sort of police helmet.

"Great." Treyess said, taking the key from him. "I think I got this thing figured out."

Ferrajalt looked for where he could sit, and saw that it was just one long seat inside the plane--pretty close quarters.

Treyess saw the Prince contemplating the seating arrangements.

"Hop in." she said. "Pretty close quarters, but it'll do."

So Ferrajalt climbed in, and straddled the seat--with Treyess' rear end right between his legs.

"Here." Treyess said, handing him a helmet. "And strap in."

Ferrajalt put the helmet on and fastened a couple of safety belts over himself.

"Well. Here goes." Treyess said, inserting the key and turning it. Instantly, the cockpit control panel lit up with a number of display panels, and the dome above them began to recede, revealing the black, starless sky above them.

"So far so good." Ferrajalt said.

"Okay. I think I have the hang of this. So if I hit--THIS." Treyess said, and all of a sudden the plane began slowly moving upward.

Ferrajalt looked down to see what was lifting them up, but in a moment, they were high enough for it to be clear that they were hovering on their own power. After a few more moment, a chime sounded and a deep mechanical sound reverberated through the aircraft.

"Okay." Treyess said. "Now we can point it in any direction--see?"

She moved the control stick, and they rotated, while remaining perfectly level. She went back and forth a few times, and the pointed it back straight ahead.

"And with this--" she said, easing forward the throttle, "--we should be flying!"

And slowly, they started moving forward.

"Somehow, I don't think that propeller is doing much of the work." Ferrajalt said, commenting on the silently spinning propeller in front of them.

"Just decoration, maybe."

"Yeah."

Treyess increased the throttle and they began to fly forward faster. Then she pulled back on the stick, and they began to gain altitude.

As they gained altitude and speed with great rapidity, Ferrajalt grabbed Treyess around the waist reflexively. It felt good to be so close to her.

"Take it easy kid!" she said. "I know what I'm doing!"

And with a laugh, Treyess poured on the power and they soared skyward at a steep angle. Ferrajalt grabbed tighter--he wondered if that's why Treyess was flying so crazy.

Treyess long blond hair was whipping in the Prince's face, and he breathed in the clean smell of it. Then he exhaled and leaned into Treyess a little more. He was thinking, "This is love--this is REALLY love!"

But his pleasant thoughts were interrupted by that mammoth structure they had spied from the Warhome--it was now directly beneath them and to the right.

"You wanna check that out?" Ferrajalt yelled against the wind, but then he realized that there was a communication system in the helmets.

"Ouch! You don't have to yell! But yeah--let's see what it is!"

Treyess steered the biplane into a spiral descent, and approached the huge structure.

"This thing is so fun to fly!" she said. "And, I mean, like you said, we're not leaving this place without our Warhome!"

"No way." Ferrajalt said, a flash sequence of images of himself and Treyess sharing the Warhome as a loving couple. But once again, these tender, electrifying thoughts were interrupted by the brutal reality of their surroundings.

The thing in front of them was gigantic. It looked like a cross between a mountain, an unfinished skyscraper, and an enormous thorn bush. And the lighting as it was, it was hard to make out detail.

"What the f*ck is it?" Ferrajalt asked.

"An adventure?" Treyess responded.

* * *

It was the first new morning in Daptin's Land. Everyone had retired to their quarters in Daptin's House, and were just now waking. Granticaine had awoken early and had gone down to the kitchen, to find Daptin sitting at a table, his head in his hands.

"Good morning." Granticaine said, and Daptin quickly looked up.

"Good morning Grant."

"I saw some things in the sky last night--still working some of the details out?"

Daptin sighed.

"Yeah. It's tough for me to keep things straight. So many big decisions to make. The length of the day and the night, seasons, the edges of the world, the stuff in the sky, like you said, and everything else. Like they say, the devil is in the details. Not that there's a devil here. Yet."

"What do you mean--a force of evil to oppose you, as is seen in so many stories of creation and the times that follow?"

"Well--" Daptin said, chuckling a little, "the thing is, I had to make that very decision--what sort of opposing forces I wanted in my world, to provide the tension, the energy, to keep things from getting old. Thing is, I'm still working on it. There are a lot of options. I never imagined."

Granticaine approached the table and sat down across from Daptin, who was scratching his left ear. The Creator looked tired, worn out. And he needed a shave.

"You know that I went to the bridge last night?" Granticaine said.

"Yes."

"And I tried to cross it."

"Yes, I know. I felt that happen."

"And you know what I found at the other end?"

Daptin looked Granticaine directly in the eyes and licked his lips.

"Yes." he said, in a disgusted tone.

They sat in silence, the wonderful light of Daptin's Sun streaming into the room, the primal fragrance of Creation in the air.

"What does it all mean?" the warrior asked.

Daptin looked away.

"It's supposed to lead to my parent's backyard in Arctica. But that location is unavailable. All that was there--all that's out there anywhere, is the vista you saw from the balcony at the end of the bridge. The dark vista of Aconck--of what's become of it."

"I stood and stared Daptin--my eyes wide open--I stood there for several hours--and yet my mind you only assimilate a tiny fraction of the view."

"Yeah. I guess that's the way it will be. I don't know exactly what it is out there. But my bridge connects to a place where you can see all of the universe as we know it--maybe as I know it--it looks like all of known Aconck, and Agoopish and the Avert Cities as well. And some other places. The universe of Daptin Gone--in all it's ruined glory."

Granticaine nodded and looked around.

"At least it's still out there."

"Yeah." Daptin said getting up and moving over to a counter. "But I'm so wrapped up in this Creation, I can't really devote all that much brainpower to the issue."

Daptin worked the espresso machine he had created and made a cup for himself.

"Espresso?" he asked.

"Why yes. I'm anxious to see what your conception of perfect espresso is."

Daptin laughed a little and made a cup for Granticaine, then returned to the table with both cups. Granticaine took his and looked into it.

"So what's become of the Cup of Coffee?"

"I don't know. The part of it that was inside me merged back with the Cup. The funny thing is, that instead of wanting to bring me--us--back to where the Cup was, it tried to send me home. But it wasn't there. So whatever force of the Cup sent us toward my home--and then brought its pattern integrity whole again. But where is it? I don't know. I guess it's still back at my apartment in Greatwall. Or what's left of it."

"Huh."

Daptin started scratching at his ear again, and took a sip of the espresso. Granticaine tried his, too.

"Wow!" Granticaine said, nodding. "Rather phenomenal! One of the fringe benefits of Creating your own world, I guess--really good coffee!"

Granticaine laughed, but Daptin stopped in mid-sip and also stopped scratching his ear, staring blankly.

Granticaine frowned.

"Is everything okay?"

"No." Daptin said, putting the cup down and standing up. "No--everything is not okay. I knew I felt something--but now--yes."

He put his hand near his ear and seemed to be concentrating intensely.

"Yes..." he continued. "Very clever. Very sneaky."

Granticaine stood up.

"What is it, man?"

Daptin held his right hand out and said "Just hold on."

Daptin then jerked his head a couple of times as he moved his hand into various positions near his left ear. Then all of a sudden, a multicolored sparkling ignited around the vicinity of his ear.

"I got it." Daptin said, his voice sounding strange.

He slowly moved his hand away from his head, and the area of sparkle, about the size of a baseball, remained midpoint between the hand and the ear.

Daptin winced a few times, then nodded.

"Okay, but how many?" he said, his voice sounding distorted.

Granticaine began to speak, but stopped himself.

Slowly, Daptin reached over to the sparkling area with his right hand, and with great concentration, still looking forward, grasped something between his thumb and index finger.

"Got it." he said, smiling at Granticaine.

"What?" Granticaine said, bewildered.

Carefully, Daptin placed the thing he held on the outstretched palm of his left hand, and showed it to Granticaine. It was a tiny gold-colored speck.

"Uh." Granticaine said. "What might that be?"

"You'll be amazed when you find out, which I think should be just about--NOW."

Granticaine saw some movement from the other side of the kitchen, and saw a doorway-shaped area in the middle of the floor, and the interior of some kind of cockpit could be seen through it. A tall woman was standing in the doorway, with lovely medium-length reddish-brown hair, wearing a revealing brown and white dress. Granticaine squinted and saw a tiny woman floating next to the other one.

"Daptin?" Granticaine said worriedly.

"It's okay Grant." Daptin said, then facing the doorway, "Spanking New Sarah and Pine Run Glara. What a pleasure to see you here. Welcome to my Land."

"Thanks." Spanking New Sarah (the regular sized one) said with a smile, stepping through the doorway and into the kitchen. Pine Run Glara floated out behind her.

"I guess you want an explanation?" Sarah said as she approached the table.

Pine Run Glara flew over and alighted on the table, right in front of Granticaine. He regarded her. She was under a foot tall, wearing worn-out blue jeans, and green and black striped T-shirt, and white sneakers.

Granticaine gave Daptin an inquisitive look.

"Ladies, this is Granticaine Chug Perion. But I'm sure you already know that. Grant, these are some of the goddesses I told you about--Spanking New Sarah and Pine Run Glara, to be exact. And I think it's just you two."

"Just us." Glara said, her voice small, but not as small as it would seem it should be.

"Sit." Daptin said to Sarah, who accepted and sat down at the table. "And try that explanation on me."

"Okay." Sarah said. "But first, just let me..."

She turned and pointed a penlike object and the doorway, which promptly vanished.

"Don't want to waste too much energy." she said, turning back to Daptin. "So--the explanation. Well, basically, we've been in that zincler ever since you left the Caxopys for your mission. And yes, we saw and heard everything. Quite a harrowing journey."

Daptin frowned.

"So you were physically inside this thing, like totally miniaturized?"

"Yup." Sarah said.

"And you enter and exit the thing via a size-changing dimensional doorway of some sort?" Daptin asked.

"Something like that." Sarah said.

Daptin nodded in thought, looking at Pine Run Glara.

"So you two saw everything--what did it do--tap into my aural and visual nerves?"

Glara nodded.

"And when did you implant the thing?" Daptin said, looking at Sarah.

"When do you think?" she said with a look.

Daptin nodded.

"Fair enough. But why?"

"I had a bad feeling about your future." Sarah said. "I just knew your mission wasn't going to go right. And believe it or not--I think I'm in love with you. So I wanted to tag along to help you when you got into trouble. Glara came to keep me company. Everything went kind of haywire after that first cup thing, you know, at Boltpike, and the door didn't work any more. We thought we'd be stuck inside you forever. Then when you ate the popcorn, well--after we woke up, all our instruments died and by the time we got them back online, you were in that other universe meeting this guy."

Sarah nodded her head toward Granticaine.

"Uh huh." Daptin said. "So you don't know what happened between the popcorn and my meeting with Grant at Greatwall?"

"No." Glara said. "So what happened?"

Daptin smiled and chuckled a little.

"Let me have some secrets from you, little one."

Glara made a grimace at Daptin, but then smiled.

"I guess that's fair."

"So Sarah--now you know all about Aconck, eh?" Daptin said. "What do you think?"

"Pretty mind-blowing. It's a big universe out there."

"Yeah." Daptin said.

"May I see that?" Granticaine said, nodding toward the zincler.

"Sure." Daptin said, extending his hand. Granticaine carefully grasped the tiny speck and placed it in his palm.

"Remarkable!" he said. "A fantastically useful device!"

"Sure is." Glara said, looking up at Granticaine.

"Where did you get it?" Granticaine asked.

"Oh, the usual places. They say folks used to use them to store their harems INSIDE of themselves, so that whenever they felt like a little, you know, WHING," Glara said with a pelvic thrust, "they could bring out the one they felt like having fun with at the moment."

"Also good for bodyguards." Sarah said.

"I would say so!" Granticaine said.

"May I have it back?" Sarah said, looking from Granticaine to Daptin.

"Why not." Daptin said. "Why? Is it rare?"

"Yeah." Glara said. "Not too many left."

"Huh." Granticaine said, nodding.

"So girls," Daptin said, "I assume you witnessed the Creation--so there will be rooms for you in my House forevermore. As you've probably figured out, there's something wrong with the rest of totality right now, including Agoopish. So you'll have to make due here for now. And don't go implanting that thing on anyone!"

"Of course not!" Sarah said, carefully placing the zincler back into a little ornate carrying case. "And thank you for not getting mad. What I told you is the truth. And the way things look--we managed to be the only survivors of Supbam."

"Agoopish may come back, just like everything else--but for now, yeah--you're it." Daptin said.

"Thank you King Daptin." Sarah said with a twinkle in her eyes. "And when you're looking for a Queen, please consider me."

"I'll do that." Daptin said.

*OW*



[[10024CO]] Catalog of Obliviana

These days, when you buy a book, magazine, CD, or videotape, you get an artifact which acts as the medium for the information contained within. But as the Digital Superworld develops, more and more of the infostimulation you buy will be pure data--with no physical side, no artifact.

In fact, OsoaWeek is such a formless thing--it's pure data. With this in mind, we here at Obliviana Super Occult Amusement feel that artifacts will begin to take on more meaning. And because of this, we have developed a system by which all of the Obliviana Artifacts we release have definite identity--with limited production, each item is numbered, stamped, and personally signed by its creator.

The following list contains all the currently available Obliviana Artifacts.

To order, send check or money order made out to Frank Edward Nora, or cash (at your own risk), to the address in the Masthead. All prices include postage and handling. Guarantee: Return any Artifact within 30 days of receiving it for a full refund.

MINIATURE SUPER OBJECT 1: NON-THORIUM ANTENNA
This is a strange little Super Object I developed some time ago as an incentive item to get you to order one of my former magazines. I got no orders, though. Now, there are 40 Non-Thorium Antennas, complete with tiny plastic container and title card. 28 left. OA001. Only $3 each!

PERFECT FOVY
Fovy was a publication I released fortnightly for five issues last Autumn. Each issue is on one folded-up 11 x 17 sheet of paper, with an awesome 8-Codingseed poster on one side and cool stuff on the other, including two Zope comics per issue! A wonderful collection, bound with a paper band, and only 26 made. 24 left. OA002. Yours for $5!

PELTER CD-ROM
This is an actual CD-ROM I had pressed over a year ago, and it contains 256 of the coolest clip textures you ever saw! Being for the Macintosh, each image is a 512 pixel by 512 pixel 32-bit color image. As well, each image comes in 6 varieties! These are 32-bit, 8-bit, grayscale, tiled 32-bit, tiled 8-bit, and tiled grayscale. This product never saw commercial release because, (a) I blew all my money just producing it, and (b) I'm too lazy and wary to have anyone else produce it. So! A great bargain, with only 40 copies available. Includes the original color-photocopied cover, and a brand new insert with updated information. Requires Macintosh computer with CD-ROM drive. 38 left. OA003. Only $30 each!

READ THIS OR DIE!
An awesome collection of Zope comics spanning eight years! Contains twenty sheets of colored paper, with 40 Zope comics in all! Included are "Zope's Resin Conundrum", "Zope's Little Puppet", "Doctor Zope and the Abdomen Ghoul", and loads more! Each set not only has the usual signature, stamp, and number--but an original drawing of Zope as well! All bound together with a big binder clip. A very raw artifact! 20 made, 7 left. OA005. $4 each.

*OW*



[[11024CN]] Contents

BEGIN
01 024 CV--Cover
02 024 HR--Hemisinister Review
03 024 ZP--Zope
04 024 HT--Halfevil Times
05 024 LA--Lord of Obliviana
06 024 NH--Nihilistica
07 024 SU--Superior
08 024 DH--Dehumidifier
09 024 SR--Severe Repair
10 024 CO--Catalog of Obliviana
11 024 CN--Contents
END

*OW*



[[END024OW]]



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